


Far Off and Rather Like a Dream

by Fritillary



Category: The Tempest - Shakespeare
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Original Character(s), Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritillary/pseuds/Fritillary
Summary: They would pay for their treachery and dishonesty, he had vowed so many years ago, and now retribution was finally within his grasp.





	Far Off and Rather Like a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal, originally written 22/Aug/2009
> 
> Prompt: #161 - Fool's Paradise (prompts from tamingthemuse )  
> Contains: Original characters, prequel/missing scene, nefarious plotting, mostly flashbacks, spoilers for the tempest?

The emerald lizards sunbathing on the the dusty rock scattered suddenly as a shadow fell over them; wedging their narrow bodies into the natural crevices in the cliff-face. The bearded man lowered himself carefully onto a flat part of the haphazard wall built at the cliff's edge, laying his staff across his lap. Eyes, grey as the storm now clearing from the horizon, swept over the width of the small island and Prospero, great magician of the Arts and rightful Duke of Milan, gave a sly smile as his gaze took in the distant shapes of three separate groups wandering his domain. They would pay for their treachery and dishonesty, he had vowed so many years ago, and now retribution was finally within his grasp. 

\----- Twelve years ago -----

"Miranda? Miranda?!"

Emilia bit her lip nervously as she ducked back from the balcony and ran further down the twisting staircase, her heavy skirts lifted out of the way of her hurrying feet. She almost skipped over the last step and, throwing a glance about the small courtyard at the bottom, darted across the empty space, clutching her cap to her brow. She disappeared through the ornately carven arch into the walled gardens, calling again; "Miranda?"

Puffing and blowing, her large face turning a deep pink, Paulina followed at a much slower pace, making sure heft the embroidered hems of her skirts out of the dust. Ignoring the progress of her older colleague, Emilia was already searching the gardens, peering through each ivy-wrapped arch in turn to call for their young charge.

"Miranda?!" she admonished the scented air above the flower beds, "It is not the behaviour of a duchess to hide from her lessons." The governess bit her lip again, and said, half to herself, "Where are you, my lady?" At that moment, Emilia noticed a movement in the low shrubbery that bordered the tulip beds. Stepping closer, sure enough, she was rewarded with a flash of ginger hair as a small figure in olive silk wriggled back out of sight. "Miranda!"

To Emilia's surprise, the moment the little duchess's name had left her lips, Paulina rose like Venus from the waves on the far side of the shrubbery, showing a turn of speed her younger colleague had never expected. Clucking worriedly, the matron bore down upon the child. Sweeping the little girl up in her arms, out of the flowerbed, Paulina dropped with a heavy thump to her knees; yellow linen skirts spilling about her on the grass. 

As the matron gasped to regain her breath from her short sprint, Miranda tumbled down her lap to lie, giggling, on the embroidered skirts of her guardian. To both her carer's annoyance, she seemed in great spirits. The little girl clapped her hands at the sky and laughed.

"Po-leena win! Po-leena hide now!" Gleeful at having coerced the nervous Emilia and stoic Paulina into playing her favourite game, the three-year-old duchess of Milan struggled onto her slippered feet, her face wreathed in smiles. Paulina, always dutiful, smiled tiredly back at her young charge, while Emilia settled discontentedly on the lawn beside the pair, tucking her feet beneath her. 

Thank goodness, she thought, no-one had seen the frantic castle-wide search for the duke's daughter. With both dress-maids Hermione and Viola taken to bed with a head-cold, the care of the ever-wilful Miranda had taken far more effort than usual, and the strain was beginning to test Emilia's nerves to their limits.

Miranda's youngest attendant might have taken to her bed herself had she known that, high above the gardens, their antics had in fact been keenly observed. Prospero's robes swirled about his ankles as he turned away from the sun-heated balcony over the gardens to step into the cooler stone corridors of the castle, the smile flitting about his lips from his daughter's joy fading into a frown of concentration as his thoughts shifted to the worn book of incantations he carried. 

Steps echoing dully on the flagstones, the Duke of Milan passed swiftly by the chambers of state where the Duke would normally hold council with the governors of the city and stepped through the heavy carven doors to his private quarters. Prospero knew he could rely upon his brother Antonio's more financially-inclined mind to deal with all queries levied to the Duke's office, leaving him to turn his own mind to the mysteries of magic.

If only he could leave all the pomp and ceremony of his position behind completely, Prospero mused, he would be able to focus fully on his two loves: his only daughter, and the exploration of the Magical Arts. Alas, the Duke mused as he strode deeper into the castle, it was not to be.


End file.
